


Understanding Vampires for Dummies, a comprehensive guide by Miya Atsumu

by Feroxai



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Comedy, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, MSBY-era, Pining, Realistic Modern Vampirism, vampire Sakusa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28063068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feroxai/pseuds/Feroxai
Summary: “Do you ever get like, hungry?”“Yes,” answers Sakusa.“Thirsty?”Sakusa shoots him a look. Atsumu almost expects to be ignored.But then Sakusa rakes him head to toe with his eyes, and—"Yes. Sometimes.”Astumu swallows, throat dry. He wets his lips, words ready on his tongue, but Sakusa rolls his eyes and swats him with his book.“Not for blood, you idiot,” he says. “I regularly feed and always take my meds. I take care of myself.”The ‘unlike some people’ remains implied.Or, Atsumu  discovers that Sakusa is a vampire, discovers his own crush on him, and then watches as these two facts take over his life.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 52
Kudos: 234





	Understanding Vampires for Dummies, a comprehensive guide by Miya Atsumu

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [To live in our era](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5627329) by [Amielleon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amielleon/pseuds/Amielleon). 



> Check note at the end for in-depth content warnings.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a vampire.

“Didn’t you know?” asks Sakusa. He hasn’t even looked up from his novel. He sounds almost bored.

Atsumu is sure he’s doing an impressive impression of a goldfish; his mouth gapes in shock then seals in frustration and then opens again as he tries to find the words to follow up.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a vampire. It’s written in plain black and white text in his newly-printed _Volleyball Monthly_ profile:

  * Height: 192.3 cm
  * Jumping Reach: 345 cm
  * Position: Outside Hitter
  * Class: _Vampire_



One of his hitters is a vampire and Atsumu didn’t _know_.

Atsumu scowls, tracing the word once more. In high school, there had been rumours about Sakusa’s status, thanks to his attitude and appearance. He was tall, dark-haired and pale-skinned. Atsumu remembers hearing girls fawn over his “marble-like countenance”. It didn’t help that he was stoic and silent, prone to growling and frowning like a true Byronic hero. He looked like the picture-perfect vampire.

But for all his amazing powers of observation, for all his ability to get under people’s skin and read them on the court, somehow Atsumu had been left stupidly blindsided.

Why hadn’t Sakusa told him? Wasn’t he trustworthy enough? Wasn’t he important enough? The questions rise up his throat, but he swallows them down.

“What the fuck,” says Atsumu. “How'd they find out?”

“I told them.”

The idea of Sakusa volunteering personal information to the media is so odd that Atsumu is tempted to pinch himself.

“So you came out ‘cause you wanted to?”

Sakusa shrugs. “Komori is coming out this week. He’s making a big spectacle out of it. People were going to connect the dots anyway. It was never a secret, I just didn’t talk about it.”

“No kidding. You’ve _never_ said anything about it. You’re a sneaky bastard, Omi-Omi.”

“I was obvious about it,” Sakusa says flatly.

“Nah, you weren’t.”

“You weren’t looking. Aren’t you the one who usually points out my weird habits?”

Atsumu thinks that’s unfair. He’s never made fun of Sakusa’s tendency to cover himself up outside of the court. He helps make up odd excuses so that Sakusa can skip out on team dinners. If anyone is sick or bleeding and Sakusa looks queasy, Atsumu is the one who tries to distract him. Atsumu likes to think he’s a _great_ friend, Sakusa’s got great nerve to complain about him.

“Yeah but, that’s—that’s just you being you. I didn’t think it meant anything.”

“It is just me being me. Of course it means something,” says Sakusa, shooting him a look that makes Atsumu feel elusive shame simmer in his belly.

“Sorry,” says Atsumu. “You’re right.”

Sakusa cringes. “Don’t apologise. You’re giving me the creeps.”

“Hey! I’m trying to be nice, you jerk!”

“Don’t. Just ask the questions I know you’re dying to ask.”

The first questions that come to mind are intrusive, curious thoughts. Could Astumu touch his teeth? Does blood taste good? Has he ever fed on anyone? But Atsumu has been sent to enough workplace harassment seminars to know that those aren’t things he can ask if he wants to remain in Sakusa’s apartment.

It's not like he's going to ask, ‘Do you want to feed on me?’ That would be weird—stupid, even. He can already imagine the look of disgust on Sakusa’s face.

Sakusa still has his nose in his book. To anyone else, he would seem utterly uninvested in this conversation. It must be quite the book because Sakusa furrows his brow as his eyes fixate on the page.

But then Atsumu quickly realises that it’s not the book that’s making him upset. He hasn’t looked at Atsumu once since they’ve begun this conversation. No, Sakusa doesn’t look upset. Sakusa looks _nervous._

There are moments in life when you need to keep moving. Like a rock rolling down a hill, in an unstoppable motion, pulled down by gravity and inertia. Atsumu has to say something. So he settles for short, simple and silly enough to make Sakusa roll his eyes.

He shuffles closer to Sakusa, until their knees not-quite-touch against the sofa. Sakusa’s shoulders tense up and he hunches in on himself a little. But Atsumu grins at him catches his gaze, and that tension dissipates. Atsumu feels triumphant inside. It’s almost as good as the sting on his palm after a great serve.

Atsumu fakes an inquisitive hum. “Do you ever get like, hungry?”

“Yes,” answers Sakusa.

“Thirsty?”

Sakusa shoots him a look. Atsumu almost expects to be ignored.

But then Sakusa rakes him head to toe with his eyes, and—"Yes. Sometimes.”

Astumu swallows, throat dry. He wets his lips, words ready on his tongue, but Sakusa rolls his eyes and swats him with his book.

“Not for blood, you idiot,” he says. “I regularly feed and always take my meds. I take care of myself.”

The ‘unlike some other people’ remains implied.

Atsumu snorts. “Alright, alright.”

“Is that it?”

“Huh?”

Sakusa sends him a sidelong glance and repeats the words slowly as if Atsumu was too airheaded to understand Japanese. “Is that all you wanted to ask?”

Well, the answer was no. But he wasn’t going to say that. Atsumu hasn't spent months pruning, watering and fertilising their bud of friendship to step on it by letting his mouth run. It’s different now that ‘Samu isn’t around. He doesn’t have anyone to stand beside him and whack him over the head when he says something insensitive.

Atsumu knows stuff about vampires. Everyone does. But he doesn’t actually understand them. They were a secretive lot, and for good reason. He’s seen people hurl vitriol at them, and he doesn't want to do the same, even accidentally. The thought of Sakusa being bothered by other people because of his vampirism grinds on his nerves.

But there’s probably no need to be worried on his behalf if Sakusa himself is being so blasé about it. After all, Sakusa isn’t new to being judged. He has always been unapologetic, even pushy and rude about his habits and requirements. Sakusa has never seemed to care about what people say about him. Maybe Atsumu is just making a big deal about this in his head.

“Hey,” says Sakusa. “You’re being really quiet.”

Atsumu can read between the lines, what he’s really saying is, ‘You’re being really quiet, and it’s freaking me out’. Maybe Sakusa doesn’t care about what people think about him. But maybe, just maybe—he cares about what _Atsumu_ thinks about him, and that’s enough to make the swallow in his stomach swoop for a second.

He wets his lips. “I’m just. Thinking.”

“That must be new for you,” says Sakusa.

“Oi. I’m trying to be nice and you’re being mean.”

“Don’t overdo it. You'll hurt yourself."

Atsumu's fingers twitch as he restrains himself from throwing one of Sakusa's throw pillows at him. "You're hurting my feelings, asshole."

"You have feelings?" Sakusa asks, but it has no bite. Heh, bite.

Atsumu pouts, curls up like a hedgehog and buries his face in his knees. It was so unfair that Sakusa seemed so unfazed when Atsumu’s thoughts were whizzing around at a million miles per hour. It was so unfair that he had to find this out from a goddamn _magazine._ "Why didn't you tell me? Did you really think I'd treat you differently?"

Sakusa puts his book down onto the coffee table with a thunk. Atsumu hears him do it, and peeks over his knees to see Sakusa staring right at him. The tenseness in his brow is gone, smoothed out by Atsumu's childishness. Atsumu made sure of it.

Sakusa hums. "Not really. But there was no guarantee. What if you were secretly a vampire bigot all along?"

"Omi-Omi," Atsumu whines.

"Stop being such a child. I think you understand why some people don't come out," says Sakusa. "Miya, I don't owe you any information about myself just because we're friends."

“You think I’m a shitty friend,” Atsumu accuses. “That’s why you didn’t want to tell me.”

Sakusa narrows his eyes.

Astumu’s got him. “You do. Just admit it.”

"Don’t be an idiot—you're not a shitty friend. You didn't pry. You didn't make assumptions about me. Look, I didn’t tell anyone I didn’t need to. Don’t take it personally.”

"Did you just compliment me? Never thought I'd hear one come out of your mouth."

"Shut up, Miya."

Atsumu grins. "You were right though. I don't care that you're a vampire. Not when I'm more concerned about how _rude_ you are."

Sakusa snorts and picks up his book again. “My apologies,” he says, unapologetically. His lip curls upward slightly, and his right cheek crinkles to show the beginnings of a dimple.

Atsumu knows then that things will be fine. World-tilting revelations aside, little would change between them, right?

(／_^)／ ⊥ ● ＼(^_＼)

The team is really supportive. According to Sakusa, the team is _too_ supportive. Meian stress bakes an angel sponge cake to celebrate, which is a very good thing. Bokuto decorates it, which is not a very good thing since he uses a sickly sweet butter frosting that is truly vile.

The cake announces in messy, bright red lettering, _Congratulations on your Vampirism._

Sakusa takes one look at it and says, "Thanks."

He doesn’t look _disgusted_ but he doesn't take any of the carefully cut pieces Barnes passes around the team.

Meian pulls Sakusa over to the side and offers him an undecorated cupcake in a clean Tupperware container. “Here,” he says. “I put it in here after it cooled. Bokuto hasn’t touched it and there’s a fork inside.”

Sakusa takes the box cautiously. “Thank you.”

Atsumu watches the exchange while stuffing his face with cake. It tastes alright, all things considered. Bokuto and Hinata go in for a second slice, despite Coach Foster telling them that each additional slice meant twenty laps around the gym.

Atsumu looks enviously at Sakusa’s frosting-free portion. “Omi-Omi—”

“I’m not sharing.”

“Wow. Are you going to even finish that?”

“I’ll try to,” says Sakusa, frowning.

Now that Atsumu really thinks about it, he’s never seen Sakusa eat large amounts of food. It’s obvious that Sakusa is picky with his food and Atsumu thought it was just that.

“Don’t be stingy. Vampires don’t eat a lot anyway, right?”

“Impressive, you’ve read a high school biology textbook. The answer is still no.”

“Atsumu-san,” calls Hinata. “There’s plenty of cake over here, you don’t have to bully Omi-san.”

“Besides, it doesn’t matter if it’s frosted or not, if you eat more cake, I’m still going to make you run laps,” says Coach Foster.

“Unbelievable. The audacity. I came out here to have a good time—”

“Shut it, Miya,” says Sakusa, but he’s smiling, sort of. It’s a hard call unless you know what to look for, but Sakusa’s eyes are crinkling just-so in amusement.

The rest of the team laughs too, and Atsumu forgets all about it until after practice.

After a long, scalding shower he goes to the locker room. It’s empty; the others must have left ages ago.

He opens up his own locker to get his bags and stares because Sakusa’s Tupperware is in there. The cupcake lays inside, half-eaten, with a clean edge sawed off and no bite-marks in sight. He picks it up and considers it with something like wonder.

Atsumu covertly stuffs it in his bag and takes it home. After dinner, he pulls it out of the fridge.

It tastes sweet.

(ﾉ･ｪ･)ﾉ ⊥ ● ＼(ﾟｰﾟ＼)

After the Jackals v Adlers game, the Miyagi natives drag the rest of them bar-hopping around downtown Sendai.

Atsumu taps out after the third bar. It’s getting late, he’s tired and has to get up early to crawl back to Osaka for a solo Mizuno photoshoot. Osamu calls him an old man, which is ridiculous: Atsumu is barely _21 minutes_ older than him.

He ventures back to the hotel by himself. Bokuto and Hinata have endless energy reserves; last Atsumu heard, they were planning on going hard at karaoke with Akaashi and the old Karasuno crew. The other Jackals had tapped out earlier; Sakusa had left before the first drink.

Still, it’s not very late and he’s bored.

He showers meticulously and then checks on Sakusa’s door, satisfied when he sees the light leaking out of the bottom of it. Atsumu bites his lip, grins and raises his fist to Sakusa’s door and bangs.

“Omi-Omi!! Let me in.”

The door opens suddenly. Atsumu barely manages to stop his fist from colliding into Sakusa’s unamused face.

“What is it?” asks Sakusa. He looks a little tired. He’s…shivering.

Atsumu stares. “Are you cold?”

“Did you seriously knock on my door to ask me if I’m cold?”

“Nah, I was just bored. Let me in and close the door, you’re letting all the warm air out.”

"If I say no, will you leave?"

Atsumu grins in response, rocking back and forth from his heels to his toes, but doesn't say a word. His parents always told him not to make promises he couldn’t keep.

“Fine, just get in,” says Sakusa, defeated.

Atsumu practically skips in. Sakusa seems weirdly obliging, it would be a real pity not to take advantage. “Can I sit on the bed?”

“I’ll kick you off.” Alright, maybe not that obliging.

“Uh, the chair?”

“No.”

Atsumu pouts, but Sakusa doesn't budge. “Omi-Omi, you’re not giving me much to work with here.”

Sakusa scoffs. “What? Are you too good to sit on the floor?”

“I just showered, I’m not sitting on your floor. I have standards.”

“Fine, just take the chair,” says Sakusa, before venturing off into the bathroom. Atsumu pointedly does not take the chair and follows him there.

Sakusa sighs, long-suffering. “Why are you back so early? Thought I'd have some peace and quiet for once.”

“I have to wake up at 6 am tomorrow for a photo shoot.”

“Hmm, sucks to be you.”

“Yeah, yeah. The others gave me enough shit about it, trust me. Whatcha doing?”

He watches Sakusa watch a kettle boil. Riveting. Sakusa must have reappropriated it from the room’s tea and coffee bench.

“I’m preparing a hot water bottle,” says Sakusa. He hefts up a yellow rubber bottle. A small pile of full water bottles resting in the bathtub catches Atsumu’s eye.

“That’s like, five hot water bottles Omi-kun.”

“It’s cold. I don’t want to go into hibernation in a hotel room.”

Since when was Sakusa a rustic woodland creature? “Hibernation? What the fuck?”

Sakusa slides him a look of utter disdain. "You didn't pass high school biology, did you?"

Atsumu resists the urge to kick Sakusa in the shin; he's pouring out boiling hot water, after all. "I did, you ass. Don’t remember learning much about vampires though."

"Tch. Typical,” says Sakusa, endearing as ever.

“Yeah, yeah. The Japanese education system is in shambles. Uh, are you gonna explain the hibernation thing?”

“Google is free,” says Sakusa.

“Come _on_ , Omi-Omi. My phone’s out of battery,” Atsumu lies.

“You’re a lazy imbecile,” says Sakusa. Rude. But he starts explaining anyway, so Atsumu’s counting that as a win. “Vampires are mesotherms. We’re able to regulate our own temperature, but it’s hard to do it in extreme conditions. If it gets too hot and sunny, I’ll get lethargic and badly sunburnt. If it gets too cold, I’ll get lethargic and go into hibernation. And if I hibernate, I won't be able to wake up for days.”

“What the fuck? Does management know?”

“Coach Foster and the higher-ups knew about my condition before they signed me. They’ve been very accommodating.”

"It's winter now. Is it even safe for you to be travelling like this?"

"I'll manage. I always do."

"Must have been annoying having us nag you to go out when it's so cold. You could've said something Omi-kun," says Atsumu. Why didn't Sakusa just tell him? Fuck, they dragged him out on a freezing winter night. It didn't matter that he didn't stay long, he still _went_.

"It's fine," says Sakusa. "I'm well-practised in having my boundaries overstepped."

"Uh, newsflash. That's not a good thing."

"It's inevitable," says Sakusa. Trust him to be all gloomy about it.

Atsumu steps closer into Sakusa's personal space. He knows he runs a little hot; maybe his body heat would help a little. Sakusa doesn't even twitch at his movements, but he doesn't push him away either. "You know, if you need help blowing the others off, just say so. Can't have my favourite hitter going into hibernation before a match."

Sakusa pauses and puts the kettle down. The rubber bottle jiggles against the sink. He looks at Atsumu, eyes partially hidden behind his freshly washed hair. "Thank you," he says. "But I have it covered."

"You know, it's not going to kill you to ask for help sometimes."

"I'll ask when I need it," snaps Sakusa.

Yeah, Atsumu doubts that. But Sakusa's tone says he doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

Atsumu gets up and inspects the bathtub. “Are the hot water bottles really going to help?”

“I leave my electric blanket at home when travelling. These are better than nothing. Traditionally, vampires huddle for warmth.”

“Like hamsters?” Atsumu imagines a whole bunch of tiny Sakusas huddling under a blanket. Cute.

“To my knowledge, it’s more like spooning than whatever hamsters do,” says Sakusa.

Atsumu can’t imagine Sakusa spooning other people for warmth. “Have you ever— ”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Miya, but I’m not the huddling type.”

“Fair," says Atsumu. He indicates to the hot water bottles. "Do you need any help with that?”

Sakusa hesitates but then nods. “Make sure the lids are dry for me. If they are, place the bottles on the bed.”

“Aye aye,” says Atsumu. He looks at Sakusa with curiosity. “Hey, Omi-kun.”

“What?”

“When you said you get lethargic, what did you mean? Is it like, serious?”

“It’s not a big deal."

"Are you sure about that? You ain't going to just kneel over on the court one day?"

"Don't be ridiculous. When I’m lethargic I just become tired, maybe a little slow. I'm not going to collapse on the court."

Atsumu prides himself in being able to read his teammate's conditions impeccably. To think that he has made such a large oversight is incredible to say the least. “That still sounds like a big deal to me. Wouldn't it affect how you play?”

“It’s never happened during a game.”

“Never?”

"I've already told you multiple times. I can take care of myself. If you think I’ll be reckless enough with my health that it’ll affect how I play, you're sorely mistaken," Sakusa says, voice cold.

Atsumu puts his hands up in surrender. "Wow, I'm just concerned Omi-Omi. No need to blow up at me."

Sakusa’s head snaps towards his direction and he glares at him, like an eagle fixating on prey. "I don't need your concern.”

"Clearly," says Atsumu sulkily.

Sakusa's glare softens a little. "The gyms are temperature controlled. I've never felt lethargic while playing. If you want to understand vampires, go read a vampirology textbook instead of bothering me."

"But I hate reading,” Astumu whines. “Textbooks give me headaches, Omi-kun."

"I have the perfect source for you in that case," Sakusa says lightly. The smug look on his face both irritates and ignites Atsumu.

"Oh?"

The edge of Sakusa’s smirk twitches like he’s trying not to laugh. "It's called _Understanding Vampires for Dummies_ , I'm sure you can find it in your local bookshop if you even know where that is."

Atsumu screeches in outrage. "Hey— "

(ノ￣ー￣)ノ ● ⊥ ＼(^ω^＼)

The next morning, Atsumu orders a copy of _Understanding Vampires for Dummies_ with expedited shipping. So what if he doesn't know where their local bookstore is? He has the internet!

He doesn't want to be caught reading it in public so he studies it before bed, squinting at the words in the dim lamplight, yawning as he flips through the pages. The book separates the truth from fiction and breaks things down into tiny edible pieces of trivia. While it's interesting enough, the long scientific terms make him a little drowsy. _Me-so-ther-mic_ might roll off of his tongue, but he still doesn’t really know what it means. All he knows is that Sakusa has a really, really good reason to be picky about the places he frequents.

The first thing he reads is the chapter on Feeding. It’s not the most useful chapter for him to read. After all, Atsumu isn’t going to be exchanging ‘bodily fluids’ of any sort with Sakusa anytime soon. But so what? Sue him, he’s curious.

'Vampire feeding is not a fetish', says the book, 'It’s a necessity'. Look, Atsumu gets that, he really does, but it’s difficult to read about it clinically when the chapter details how live feeding could be pleasant for both parties given enough preparation. He reads it hungrily, blinking once or twice at the seemingly-accidental innuendos that litter the pages. _Get tested before exchanging bodily fluids._ _Aftercare is important. Carefully prepare for penetration—of teeth!_

After that he reads through Diet and Physiology chapters, highlighting and doodling on the pages...look, he has a vested and _professional_ interest in the condition of Sakusa’s body and abilities.

According to the book, most vampires subsist on a mix of artificial blood, animal blood, donated human blood, vitamins and a small amount of food. Now that Atsumu thinks about it, he’s never seen Sakusa drink blood during meal times or breaks. Sakusa spends lunchtime dipping vegetable sticks into miso mayo and eating umeboshi straight out of the bag. God, Sakusa’s feeding schedule was probably _really_ messed up. So much for keeping his body in prime condition. What a hypocrite.

He says as much to his face during a late-night snack run at Onigiri Miya.

Sakusa puts down his onigiri. "I didn't realise you were my mother, Miya."

"So you're allowed to lecture me about going out and staying up late but I'm not allowed to worry about how I never see you drink blood?"

"Yes," says Sakusa.

"Wow. Yeah Nah, that's not fair Omi-kun."

Sakusa shrugs. “Don’t meddle in what you don’t understand. It’s annoying.”

Atsumu sputters around a mouthful of rice and ignores Sakusa’s grimace. “ _Annoying?_ ”

Sakusa glances at Atsumu’s face and hesitates for a moment, but his irritation quickly solidifies into his brows. “You heard what I said.”

“What, I’m not allowed to be concerned?”

“It’s unnecessary.”

Unluckily, they’re interrupted by Osamu delivering their next set of onigiri. “Don’t be too harsh on him, Sakusa-san. This idiot’s always been fascinated with vampires, if you catch my drift,” says Osamu, _that dick_.

Sakusa freezes for a moment. Osamu probably hasn’t noticed, but Atsumu does. He’s spent too many hours analysing Sakusa’s movements to miss it. But then he blinks, and now Sakusa’s put up his walls again—there’s only a very slight frown left on his face to betray his emotions.

Atsumu throws his napkin at his brother, "Oi, 'Samu, what did I say 'bout telling stories about me?"

Osamu calmly walks away as if he didn't hear anything and—yeah, Atsumu’s going to kill him.

"Hey! I'm talkin' to ya!"

"Sit down," says Sakusa, sounding unimpressed by their antics. He's still frowning.

Astumu belatedly realises that he was five seconds from tackling Osamu into the counter. Some of the other patrons are staring but the wait staff and regulars pay him no heed. Sakusa looks grumpy though; he's probably pissed at their immaturity or something.

Astumu abruptly sits down and rests his head in his hands, pulling at his hair in frustration. He's lucky he washed his hair after the practice and didn't bother to gel it up again. He flicks through his mental catalogue of icebreakers to lighten the mood and settles on using an amusing truth.

"That asshole," Atsumu grumbles. "I read Vampire Knight _once._ Is he never gonna let me live it down?"

 _That_ gets an amused huff out of Sakusa and makes him look less like he wants to throttle Atsumu. "Seriously, Vampire Knight? Not Dracula or Castlevania?

"It was a fun read," Atsumu says defensively.

"Sure, if by fun you mean misleading and a massive exercise in cultural appropriation."

"Ah. Right. Well, 's not like Dracula and Castlevania were accurate either, right?"

"You're correct. If you’re still interested in sordid vampiric romances, the Japanese Vampire Foundation has a reading list written by vampire authors.”

Atsumu colours as the word sordid leaves Sakusa's lips, but he collects himself quickly. He eyes him slyly. "Omi-Omi, are you going to recommend bodice rippers to me?"

Sakusa finishes chewing and carefully dabs at his mouth with a napkin before he deigns to reply. "If you're going to read drivel, it better be the type that doesn’t mock my kind."

Atsumu sobers a little at that. "I don't read that stuff anymore. You can share the books you _actually_ like and I can give it a go."

"I thought you said reading gives you headaches."

"I said textbooks give me headaches. But I listen to podcasts and audiobooks when I run."

Sakusa looks a little taken off-guard.

"Oi, no need to look so surprised. I'm not illiterate."

"I didn't say that." Sakusa scowls. "I just thought you were more of a manga and movies person."

"I have layers, y’know, like an onion." He doesn't mention that he doesn't usually enjoy watching movies. They're boring to watch at home by yourself and sitting still in the cinema leaves him fidgety; Atsumu’s not built to hold his body or mouth still for that long. It's different when he's watching with Sakusa in their apartments though. He can be as enthusiastic and loud as he wants. Sakusa joins in with his own commentary too, often dropping scathing remarks that leave Atsumu in stitches.

Sakusa looks suitably chastised, but he doesn't apologise. Instead, he says, "I'll write up a list to you. Some of them are indie titles so they won't have an audio version."

"Appreciate it, Omi-kun," Atsumu says awkwardly.

He picks up one of the onigiris Osamu had put down and stuffs his face. Ah yes, tuna garlic mayo. Delicious.

"I don't understand how you can eat that," says Sakusa, with disgust. He's looking a little uncomfortable at the thought of it, like the blood has been drained from his face.

"Is it the garlic or the tuna which offends you?"

"Both. The smell…"

"You're such a stereotype, Omi-Omi. Plenty of vampires don't care about garlic, right?"

Sakusa scowls. "Well, I do. Could you not breathe in my face?"

"As you wish," says Atsumu. He scoots down the bench a little, but it doesn't appease Sakusa, who still looks like he's sucking on an onion. "So it’s true then? Most Vampires have a really good sense of smell?”

“Unfortunately,” says Sakusa. His eyes narrow in suspicion. “Since when did you know so much about vampires?”

Atsumu feels the heat rise to his cheeks. “Uh, I was doing some reading, ‘cause I, um, got curious.”

Sakusa raises his eyebrows, and a smirk creeps onto his face. “Did you actually buy _Understanding Vampires for Dummies_?"

“Why are you so surprised? You told me to,” Atsumu says with a grumble. Osamu should probably get his heating checked out—it’s getting way too warm in the shop. Atsumu resists the urge to raise the back of his hand to his face to check how hot it is. Sakusa’s staring at him.

“It was a joke,” says Sakusa. “But I suppose it’s not a bad place to start. I didn’t think you were serious about learning more about vampires.”

“Of course I am, I ask you questions all the time!”

“I thought you were just doing that to annoy me,” Sakusa answers with a shrug.

“I was trying to like, be a good friend. It’s normal to want to learn more about your teammates,” Atsumu whines. Sakusa was the weird one, with how he was so stingy with conversation and personal details.

“You asked me if I preferred my blood shaken or stirred,” Sakusa says.

Okay, yeah, Atsumu didn’t think he’d actually remember that. “Not my fault you can’t take a joke, Omi-Omi.”

“Not my fault that you switch between teasing and genuine questions at the drop of a hat.”

Atsumu takes a swig of his ramune. “Touché.”

Sakusa is quiet for a moment. Atsumu glances at him from the corner of his eye. He looks a bit under the weather; he's a little paler and is grumpier than usual. But it was probably just the bad restaurant lighting and nothing serious.

Sakusa frowns and says, "I admit I’m puzzled by your behaviour, Miya. You said that this wouldn’t change things, and yet you’re treating me like a pop quiz you need to study for.”

Things _weren’t_ supposed to change just because he knew Sakusa was a vampire. What was one small, personal detail in the face of all the pieces of information he’s been able to pry from Sakusa’s spiky shell? Maybe it was different because Sakusa had never shared anything like that with him before. It was like opening Pandora’s box; it filled him with demons of curiosity and fascination.

Atsumu has never been truly interested in vampires before, so that’s not where the appeal lies. He’s drawn in because it’s _Sakusa_.

But it feels too honest to say, so he doesn’t.

“Maybe I lied a little about things not changing,” says Atsumu. “I can’t help it. This is kinda really cool.”

Sakusa’s face looks pallid and stormy enough that Atsumu is half-expecting Rie-chan on Channel 10 to forecast a night of heavy rain on the wall-mounted TV. He’s probably waiting for Atsumu to elaborate but all Atsumu has got is: you’re really cool and the idea of you being a vampire is really cool and I like watching you and talking to you because, again, you’re really cool. So really, he’s got nothing.

Sakusa’s not saying anything, so Atsumu sighs, rubbing at his forehead. “Does it matter if I think vampires are kind of cool?”

“We’re not,” says Sakusa, testily. “Subsisting on bodily fluids is the antithesis of cool.”

“The other stuff though. You can inject a numbing agent into someone with your teeth. Run really fast. Jump really high.”

“You idiot, you can do most of that too.”

“But not the teeth thing.”

“I assure you, it’s overrated. If you read the rest of that book, you’d know,” Sakusa says. Atsumu thinks Sakusa would be a good professor. He’s got the disapproving tone and stare down pat.

“What’s this I hear about Atsumu reading?” Osamu asks, voice filled with glee like he’s at the fucking zoo watching a fox do tricks.

“Fuck you, ‘Samu,” Atsumu growls. Osamu’s got his fighting face on like he's getting ready to spit something nasty back at him.

Sakusa suddenly clears his throat, shaking the twins out of their developing argument faster than their parents ever could. They both turn towards him. Sakusa's usually already pale, Atsumu knows, but he has been looking paler and paler these past few minutes, and his complexion has now settled into an ashy-white.

He looks like he’d rather be anywhere but there.

Astumu knows that it’s unlikely that Sakusa managed to drink any blood between the time practice ended and when Atsumu dragged him out for human food. He knows how often vampires need to drink now, and he knows that Sakusa doesn’t drink often enough.

But a part of him still thinks—what if it’s not that? What if Sakusa looks uncomfortable because he's finally had enough to walk out on him? Plenty of other people have had enough of his personality. It’s never mattered before because the important people _couldn’t_ leave, but what about Sakusa?

Sakusa turns to Osamu. “Excuse me. I need to head back, can you charge this to my tab?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.”

Shocked, Atsumu almost reaches out to tug Sakusa’s arm to make him sit down again, but he restrains himself. He hasn’t washed his hands yet, so his hands smell like nori and rice. Sakusa wouldn’t like that, he tells himself.

It sounds like an excuse.

Atsumu tries on a reassuring smile. "Is it 'cause you're hungry for the other stuff?"

Sakusa's silence is telling, as is the avoidance of his stare.

He turns to Osamu. "Oi, let Omi-kun borrow your upstairs to drink. He's weird about drinking in public."

“There’s no need, I’m not in the habit of carrying blood everywhere with me,” Sakusa says. He looks disapprovingly at Atsumu. “You shouldn’t be lending your brother’s apartment out for him. It’s rude.”

Atsumu wants to roll his eyes. “It’s not like he minds.”

Osamu looks like he’s thinking about throttling him, but he verbally agrees with Atsumu. “I’d be annoyed if it was a random person in my apartment, but I can make an exception for you, Sakusa-san.”

There’s a tense line to Sakusa’s jaw; he nods stiffly. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

He’s already packed up his things and put on his jumper, gloves and winter coat. Atsumu admires the way Sakusa’s curls peek out from under his beanie.

Atsumu’s onigiri is now a little mushed; he’s been holding it for so long and has a bad habit of moving his hands while he talks. It’s his last onigiri though.

“Omi-Omi, if you give me a moment to finish, I'll go back with you.”

Sakusa’s avoiding his eyes. “I’d rather go back alone. Spend time with your brother. Weren’t you complaining about how you never get to see him?” True, but he usually complains out of Osamu’s earshot. His brother is _right there_.

Atsumu waves a hand. “I can see his ugly mug whenever.”

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” says Sakusa, which is probably one of the most out-of-character things Atsumu’s ever heard him say.

“Can’t you just accept my company, asshole?”

Sakusa huffs. “Miya, I know how to take a cab home, I’m not a child.”

“Fine,” says Atsumu. “You should plan ahead next time,” he says, cheekily, as if he wasn’t the one who dragged Sakusa out on a whim.

Sakusa fixes him with a flat glare. "I'll see you tomorrow, don't miss me too much."

A grin settles on Atsumu’s face. “Who’s gonna miss you, asshole?”

Sakusa shakes his head and leaves. Atsumu endeavours to hide the way he watches him go, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

Clearly, it doesn’t work because Osamu is smirking at him. “Ah, I forgot about how you like to pull pigtails when you've got a crush.”

“A crush? What are you talking about?”

Osamu bursts into laughter. He manages to stop for a moment and sees Atsumu’s shocked face. “Wait, you haven't realised? ‘Sumu, you’re seriously so slow.”

“I don’t have a crush on Omi-kun,” Atsumu says. The words flow out from his lips like a stagnated river. Huh. He can unpack that later. “Not that it matters. He can't stand me half the time.”

"You're being overdramatic," says Osamu, as if that was anything new. "Aren’t you guys always fighting and making up?"

"Nah. Not really," says Atsumu, and honestly, even he's a little surprised at the revelation. Fighting is usually how he interacts with people. For some reason, people take his honesty for adversity and an invitation to argue. Sure, he and Sakusa squabble on the regular, but he's never made Sakusa walk out on him before. “We actually get along really well.”

"Seriously? Ha, no wonder you like him. Besides the volleyball vampire thing."

Atsumu is not going to deny that Sakusa's freaky wrists and crazy spikes get him a little hot under the collar, but Atsumu doesn't have an interest in vampires themselves. It's a bit insulting, in fact, to think that his vampirism ranks among the many, many reasons why Sakusa is so attractive.

"’Samu, I don't have a vampire fetish,” he snaps.

“That sounds like something someone with a vampire fetish would say.”

“Oi. I know where you live. Where you sleep. Wanna wake up bald tomorrow? Keep going.”

“As long as my hair doesn’t look like yours—”

“Hey!”

Osamu snorts and starts to clear away the plates on the counter. “Why are you so defensive anyway? It’s not like you’re subtle about the staring.”

“I don’t stare at Omi-kun. I just watch him, sometimes. On the court.” Sakusa was such a spectacular and unique player that it was difficult _not_ to watch him.

“I think you need to watch _yourself_ ,” Osamu says, balancing some plates into a small tower. Atsumu hopes he drops them. “Because you’ve been ‘watching’ him off of the court too.”

Atsumu’s eyes widen. Oh fuck, he _can’t_ have a crush on Sakusa. “Do you think he’s noticed?”

Osamu makes a considering noise. “If he has and he’s bothered by it, he would’ve said something by now. That guy has no filter.”

“I guess.” Privately, Atsumu agrees; Saksua was a blunt asshole, through and through. Saying it out loud feels like a betrayal, though. But why does he even care about that?

He rakes a hand through his hair, stressed. Shit, how hasn’t he noticed how much he cares about his dumb teammate? Osamu’s seen him for five minutes and already won’t let him live it down. He might not see his brother every day anymore, but ‘Samu can still read him like a fucking book, he notes with annoyance.

He buries his head in his hands. His heart is beating at a million miles an hour just thinking about this. It’s too late; he’s caught feelings. “Ugh, a crush on a teammate? Lame.”

“It’s like Kita-san all over again.”

Atsumu sputters, thinking of his huge and elaborate confession to Kita-san. Luckily, he had the bare minimum of social graces back in high school to confess in private, but that didn’t make the set-up and the confession itself less embarrassing. A suit and tie? A dozen red roses? Handmade volleyball-shaped chocolate? Kita-san didn’t even _like_ chocolate. But if he could muster up even a fraction of his old blissful ignorance, then maybe he could confess to Sakusa and move on before he breaks their cordial setter-spiker relationship.

He buries his face deeper into his arms and whines. “Why do I always fall for the unattainable ones?”

“‘Sumu, just get your head out of your ass. It’ll be fine.”

“I’m wallowing in misery, have pity on meeeee.”

“Here,” says Osamu, handing him the bill. “We’re fresh out of pity but we still have receipts.”

Atsumu snatches the receipt from Osamu’s grasp, squinting at the items on the list. “Wait, why are you charging me for Omi-kun’s food? He said to charge it to his tab!”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

"This is illegal!"

"I'm not a fool. He's not coming back here unless he's comin' in with you. So if you keep this up, he's never gonna cough up the cash."

Atsumu personally thinks that Osamu is selling his onigiri short. Sakusa obviously loves ‘Samu's cooking. Why else would he come with Atsumu to eat at Onigiri Miya?

He trudges his way home, Omi-less, and with a considerably lightened wallet. By the time he reaches the apartments, it's way, way too late to pop over to Sakusa's rooms to see if he’s feeling better. Atsumu is too tired to do anything more than clean himself up and fall face forward into his bed; it’s been a long day and ignoring his maybe-romantic feelings for his teammate is taking too much energy from him.

He pulls up his phone and types.

_Me 11:44 PM: Are you feeling better?_

He showers again, brushes his teeth and packs his training bag for the next day. He likes to get to the training centre early, so preparation is a must.

Atsumu checks his phone right before bed, scrolling through his Twitter feed and liking posts from his teammates. It's not a good habit. He's not really waiting for anything, but—

Sakusa has replied.

_Omi-kun!! 12:04 AM: I am. Go to bed idiot._

Yawning, Atsumu's fingers dance across his screen before his brain catches up to his impulses.

_Me 12:06 AM: lol gn love you omi omi_

Before the realisation of what he sent sinks in, he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

(／o^)/ °⊥ ＼(^o＼)

Sakusa leaves him on read.

It’s not a big deal. Why would it be a big deal? Sakusa _always_ leaves him on read. It doesn’t matter that Atsumu has sent him the lamest accidental confession possible. Obviously, it’s not enough to make Sakusa _reply._ Atsumu wants to cry. He even manages to squeeze out some frustrated tears in the shower. How could he be so stupid?

He blames ‘Samu. Everything is his fault. If ‘Samu hadn’t bought up the possibility of a stupid crush, Atsumu wouldn’t have thought about it before bed and sent _that_ to Sakusa.

 _Love you omi omi? Love you omi omi???_ What was he thinking? He closes his eyes, but the image of the bright text is not leaving his head. It's been burnt into his retinas.

He can only hope that Sakusa doesn't think it's a big deal. Although that's the best-case scenario, the thought of Sakusa brushing the text off leaves a soft little pang in Atsumu's traitorous chest.

He shakes his head and walks into the entryway of the gym. He goes through the motions of preparing for practice as he coaches his mind into a less frazzled state.

First, he tells himself things are fine because they _have_ to be. Sakusa probably thought that text was Atsumu being his usual outgoing, clingy self, or that it was just how he expressed his platonic love to his close friends. It was written so casually. Sakusa has to know that when Atsumu confesses, he makes a big deal out of it. He doesn't send confessions masked as off-handed text messages in the dead hours of the morning after an aborted dinner date. It's not his style. Surely Sakusa knows that.

Second, he tells himself that if things aren't fine, he just has to fake it till he makes it. If he keeps pretending nothing out of the ordinary has happened, Sakusa might start feeling that way too. In any case, making a big deal out of his embarrassment would only make it worse.

Finally, he tells himself that maybe it's fine if Sakusa interpreted that text as a confession if it meant that Sakusa would accept it. He sighs and buries this thought back into his Pandora's box. There's no room for false hope in a crisis.

He breathes in. He breathes out, closes his locker and walks out of the changing room. Feeling better, he goes out to the team's main practice area.

Sakusa is already there, doing his stretches, wrists pressed down against the ground. The sight should be freaky, but instead, it's frighteningly familiar. Atsumu watches Sakusa's graceful form as he stretches, savouring the way his muscles shift as he moves and how his dark eyes concentrate on the ground.

Oh no, Atsumu thinks hysterically. He's hot.

Sakusa glances at him as he walks in. _Say something_ , Atsumu's brain screeches.

“Hi,” he calls out to Sakusa. Maybe there’s something in his teeth because Sakusa and some of their teammates are staring at him weirdly. Maybe Sakusa showed their team Atsumu’s terrible brainfart of a text message. Maybe Atsumu needs to stop catastrophising because Sakusa has gotten up and is walking towards him.

“Are you okay? You look pale,” says Sakusa. Oh, the irony.

“I’m fine,” says Atsumu, ignoring how his voice breaks. Sakusa’s eyebrows rise, eyes full of doubt.

“Maybe you should go have a check-up at the medbay anyway. You didn’t stay out too late?”

“I texted you when I got home,” Atsumu assures him. “I was in bed by midnight.” Which Sakusa should know, considering that he got a text detailing Atsumu’s terrible feelings for him. A text that he’s currently ignoring, like an asshole.

“If you make me sick, I’m not talking to you for a month,” threatens Sakusa. His eyes darken and narrow, and his super-soft looking hair wafts gently as he leverages Atsumu with a glare. Atsumu _really_ wants to cry. Again. Why is he so hot? It’s so unfair!

Atsumu sniffles, which makes Sakusa look at him in disgust. He raises his hands defensively. “I’m really fine. Just didn’t sleep well. I’m not sick, promise.”

Sakusa shoots him a look full of doubt and shakes his head, walking away, as if he’s had enough of him. Embarrassingly, Atsumu feels a whine build up in his throat. He swallows it down dry and joins the team for stretches on the side of the court while Sakusa discusses _something_ with Barnes, the long, elegant figures of his fingers moving as he goes through whatever he’s explaining. Atsumu can feel that whine sputter back into life. He bites his lip.

“Are you okay, Atsumu-san?” asks Hinata. Bless his heart.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep too well. Think I ate some bad fruit for breakfast,” answers Atsumu in rapid fire.

Hinata sends him a weirded-out look. “If you say so. If anything’s wrong, just say something to Coach! We won’t judge you for taking care of yourself.”

“I will,” Atsumu promises. He flashes Hinata a smile. “Seriously, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me man.”

Hinata smiles back a little. “You better send me some great tosses today then!”

Atsumu does. He’s not so pathetic that his crush would actually make him bad at volleyball. Thankfully, his performance helps in stopping the team from sending him more weird looks.

But once practice is over, it’s a different story. It’s as if someone reached into his heart and flicked the ‘Crush On’ switch because his nerves come back redoubled. He’s hiding it well, he thinks. He’s stopped looking at Sakusa and has pulled himself away from Sakusa’s personal bubble. He doesn’t even stop by for his daily post-practice chat with him. That’s got to be enough.

He showers as quickly as he can, and jams his stuff into his bag and decides to run home. What’s a little extra cardio?

He’s five feet from the top of the staircase outside the training centre when he hears Sakusa’s voice. He debates whether or not to turn around. He could pretend not to have heard Sakusa, but he did just yell out Atsumu's name. He doesn’t want to talk to Sakusa for fear of putting his foot in his mouth, but he doesn’t want to make his avoidance or feelings obvious either, not with the potentially disastrous text he sent the previous night.

He turns around.

Sakusa’s freshly showered too, and his curls look cuter when they’re wet, Atsumu’s traitorous brain registers. He opens his mouth. “What’s up?”

Sakusa crosses his arm and looks to the side. Atsumu wishes he could tell if Sakusa was pouting under that mask. Sakusa asks, “Are you alright? You were acting weird before practice. I wanted to check in.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” Atsumu answers tersely.

Sakusa eyes him warily. “You didn’t send me many sets today and you didn’t talk to me after practice. You’re not avoiding me, right?”

Atsumu freezes and hopes Sakusa doesn’t sense it. He laughs, trying his best to sound natural. “Aren’t you full of yourself, Omi-kun? Believe me, if I had a problem with you, I’d say something. Don’t take it personally; practice just went that way, and I was just feeling a little tired so I decided to head home early.”

To prove his point, he turns around to continue the journey home, but as he puts his foot down, he trips—and tumbles halfway down the flight of stairs. He slides down most of it, with his arms and bum getting the worst of it.

When he lands, he feels like he had the wind knocked out of him.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

His back is a bit sore from tensing up during the fall, and he’s in too much shock to properly feel his limbs, but as he wiggles his wrists, ankles and knees, he confirms that nothing is broken, maybe not even bruised. He curls in on himself and examines his arms, which are a little scratched up—ah, his elbows are bleeding a bit.

He hears Sakusa rush down the stairs. Did the man learn nothing from his tumble?

“I’m fine,” he rasps out, still a bit out of breath.

“Nothing broken? Twisted?”

“Yeah, everything seems fine, I’m just scratched up.”

“You’re bleeding,” says Sakusa.

Atsumu looks at his politely weeping elbow. “Just a ‘lil.”

Sakusa crouches down beside him and examines him. Atsumu can see his furrowed brow from here—he looks way more concerned than he has any right to be, his traitorous heart whispers.

“Yeah, you’re bleeding a little from lots of different places.”

“No big deal, I’ll patch it up at home.”

“Nonsense. We can just go to the medbay in the centre. I’ll come with you,” Sakusa says sharply, leaving no room for discussion.

Atsumu sighs. “Fine, as long as you don’t bridal carry me.”

“You couldn’t pay me to do that,” Sakusa says, but he carefully takes Atsumu’s bag into one hand and offers him the other. Thankfully, he’s wearing his gloves.

To his surprise, Sakusa doesn’t immediately drop his hand once Atsumu gets up; they make it to the entryway of the centre before Atsumu remembers that he’s not supposed to be in Sakusa’s personal bubble right now and tugs his hand back. He wasn’t _really_ going to milk his injury to hold hands with his crush.

Sakusa pauses when Atsumu lets go, but he doesn’t comment on it, and simply pushes open the door for him. What a gentleman. Atsumu sighs and walks in; it’s going to be an interesting journey to the medbay.

Nothing really hurts, but he’s still going to whine about it, at least to himself. They manage to make it halfway to the medbay before they run into a staff member.

“There’s no one on duty there right now,” the woman says. She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Considering his wounds, I could take him off your hands, Sakusa-san.”

Sakusa stiffens at her words. Atsumu frowns at that, but he’s not sure why Sakusa’s reacting so much to what she said. “It’s fine, this guy’s the greatest at disinfecting wounds, trust me. Plus he has a duty to take care of me as a teammate, right, Omi-kun?”

“Right,” Sakusa says tersely. The fact that he’s not even arguing with that last statement makes Atsumu want to frown harder.

“Oh, that’s not what I meant,” the woman says, flustered. “I’m sure Sakusa-san’s proficient in first aid. But you’re bleeding, and it just doesn’t...seem wise.”

What a _bitch._

“I don’t see how that’s supposed to change anything,” Astumu says. “I’m scratched, not bleedin’ out an artery, and Sakusa’s not some medieval creature hunting me for my blood.”

The staff member raises her hands to her mouth. “Oh, my apologies, I was just offering because I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable—”

“Oh trust me, if he was uncomfortable, we’d all know it, he’s very unapologetic about that kind of thing. Not that you’d have to worry about any of this—” he slips a look at her employee badge "—Yamamoto-san.”

“My-my apologies again, I didn’t mean to overstep, Miya-san,” she stammers almost tearfully as she turns around and quickly departs.

He turns to Sakusa immediately, who seems transfixed on her retreating figure. “Are you okay?”

Sakusa exhales for a moment and then says, “I feel like I’m not the one who should be asked that right now. Is making women cry a habit of yours?”

“Wow, an insult after I defended your honour? How ungrateful.”

“It was quite a defence. Though you didn’t have to be that harsh. She could spread rumours about you.”

“I’ll spread rumours about her being a bigot then, and they’d be true, so I wouldn’t even feel bad about it,” says Atsumu.

“How heartless. Thanks, Miya,” Sakusa says. He sounds almost fond, Atsumu notes with pride.

“I’m surprised you didn’t say anything yourself. Not like you ever pull your punches. You could’ve made her bawl her eyes out.”

Sakusa snorts. “Yes, making her dislike me more when she was already suspicious of me sounds like a great idea.”

“Could’ve told her to fuck off at least.”

“No, I couldn’t. I—” Sakusa pauses as if collecting his thoughts. “I haven’t been out as a vampire for very long. I’ve rehearsed what to say in case anyone decides to be rude, but just then—I couldn’t think of anything to say.”

“Sorry for assuming. Of course you're not used to it. No one should have to deal with that shit," says Atsumu sheepishly.

"I know you mean well," says Sakusa. He shakes his head. "Less talking, more walking. If you get an infection, Coach is going to have an aneurysm."

Atsumu keeps wincing at his superficial wounds the rest of the way there and whines a bit about how his legs sting. To his satisfaction, Sakusa spares him a few glances of concern.

As that wretched staff member had mentioned, the medbay is empty. It looked as neat and orderly as it usually does.

“Sit down,” says Sakusa. “I’ll go get my gloves and some disinfectant and bandages.”

Atsumu obeys. He watches Sakusa place their bags down, take out a box of medical-grade gloves, and rustle in the cabinets. He isn’t very efficient; Sakusa probably spent the least amount of time in the medbay compared to the rest of the team.

“The band-aids are in the cabinet to your right,” Atsumu calls out.

“Just sit there, I’ll manage,” says Sakusa.

“I didn’t even try to get up, Omi-kun,” Atsumu says meekly.

It doesn’t take much longer for Sakusa to grab the supplies and pull up a chair to sit opposite to him. Atsumu watches unashamedly as Sakusa pulls a pair of gloves over his long fingers.

“Pull the legs of your pants up. I need to check if your legs are bleeding,” says Sakusa.

“They’re fine, just do my arms.”

“Weren’t you complaining about how your legs sting? I can smell blood there, idiot,” says Sakusa—and oh, Atsumu didn’t really consider that Sakusa would be able to tell he was lying.

Atsumu smiles playfully. “Can you do it for me? My palms sting.”

Sakusa snorts. “Don’t push it,” he says, but he pulls up the ends of Atsumu’s sweatpants until they bunch up above his knees anyway.

As Sakusa said, there are minor scuffs on his calves; he’s lucky he wore long pants today.

Sakusa hesitates for a moment while staring at Atsumu’s calves.

“I know I have great legs but if you keep staring, I’m gonna blush, Omi-kun.”

“Shut up,” growls Sakusa.

Atsumu taps his toe against the ground. “You really don’t have to do it, y’know? I can wait for a staff member to come. I know you don’t like this kind of stuff—‘cause of the germs, I mean.”

Sakusa huffs. “This much is fine. It’s not pleasant, but I can stand it. It’s not like I’m the one who’s scratched up.”

“Oh,” Atsumu says breathily. “You’re a good friend, Sakusa.”

Sakusa pauses in unpackaging the sterile gauze in his hands. He’s avoiding Atsumu’s eyes. “Thank you. You are too, Miya.”

Atsumu’s cheeks feel warm, and he’s got a lump in the back of his throat. But he won’t cry.

At this moment, he realises that he doesn’t want to lose this. He _can’t_ lose this. He breathes out, and a weight lifts off his chest and a resolution forms in his heart. Sakusa’s friendship is too much of a precious thing to lose in exchange for a chance to chase at something potentially fleeting.

Sakusa rubs the gauze a little on his leg wounds and then sprays them with antiseptic. Atsumu tries to suppress a hiss. It stings.

"Stay still, you baby," says Sakusa. He carefully pats the scuffs dry and places bandaids on top of the more serious ones. The feeling of the latex gloves against his skin should feel uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. Sakusa lifts his head and says, “Show me your arms.”

Astumu obediently holds out his arms. In his rush to get out of the training centre, he hadn’t put on a jacket, so he’s wearing a tank top and nothing else. Unfortunately, it meant his arms and hands weren’t as lucky as his legs in the fall.

“Your elbows look nasty,” says Sakusa, snickering.

“Mean, Omi-kun! Ow—”

Sakusa presses against the wound with gauze and sighs. “Get up, we’ll have to rinse it off. You’ve got dirt in it.”

Atsumu does as he’s told, albeit grumbling while he does it. He doesn’t whine but he hisses as the water hits the open skin. The water drips down his arms and cleans his stinging palms too. Sakusa turns off the tap and dries off the wounds with gauze again, once he deems them clean enough.

“Go sit back down, I need to change my gloves."

He goes to sit back in the chair and waits for Sakusa to come back, and it gives him a little time to think. It’s unlikely Sakusa had thought anything of the text from last night if he’s acting the way he usually does— he probably chalked it up to Atsumu being Atsumu.

He's glad, he realises; after the initial panic settled, things are less awkward. It's less loud in his head, and he's not questioning _everything_ anymore. Being with Sakusa is comfortable; it's probably why his crush was born in the first place.

Sakusa returns with more antiseptic spray and ointment, gauze and paper tape.

"Arm."

Atsumu holds out his right arm in a chicken wing shape. Sakusa sprays antiseptic on the more superficial wounds and covers some of them in bandaids. The larger wound on his elbow needs more attention; he dabs an antiseptic ointment on it ever-so-carefully, and it makes Atsumu feel lightheaded like he's holding his breath. He bundles Atsumu's elbow up in gauze and does a tidy job of taping it down.

"Not bad," he compliments himself as he examines his work. He peels off his gloves and pulls on another pair. "Other arm."

Atsumu obeys and watches Sakusa work. His left arm got the worst of it. Sakusa opts for gauze bandages over bandaids on one part of his forearm. Atsumu is not complaining, because it means he has Sakusa’s gentle fingers on him for longer. As Sakusa finishes off bandaging his elbow, Atsumu realises that this is probably the closest he’s ever been to him, and his heart’s beating faster than a drum. It’s a good thing that vampires can’t hear better than the average human, or else this would just be _embarrassing_.

“Show me your hands,” says Sakusa.

“Wow, where’s the please, Omi-kun?” teases Atsumu.

“You’re such an ingrate,” Sakusa says as he takes Atsumu’s hands in his.

Atsumu flips his hands over, showing Sakusa his palms. They’re a little scratched, and a little dry, but the skin’s not broken.

Atsumu leans in and says, “Don’t worry, I cleaned them already with water.”

Sakusa drops them in mock-disgust. “Say so next time. And moisturise when you get home.”

“I don’t need you to tell me to do that,” Atsumu grumbles. A setter always takes care of their hands.

He leans back in his chair, and relaxes—maybe a bit too much, because the next thing that comes out of his mouth is, “Aren’t you gonna kiss it better?”

Sakusa scoffs, but at least he seems sort of amused. “Absolutely not.”

Atsumu’s too busy internally screaming to fully process Sakusa’s shut down. What happened to _not_ acting on his crush? Why couldn’t he control his goddamn mouth?

Sakusa shakes his head and stands up, stripping off his gloves. "Make sure you change your bandages every day and when they get wet. You can wrap it up in saran wrap when you shower or call me over to bandage you again."

Atsumu wrinkles his nose. "Or I could just not shower."

Sakusa shoots him a look of disgust.

"I'm kidding! Lighten up! I'll call you if I get any of my bandages wet."

"So you're not avoiding me anymore, then?" asks Sakusa.

Atsumu shakes his head fervently. "I told you, I wasn't!"

Sakusa doesn’t look so convinced; he stalks towards Atsumu, hunches over, and says, in a low voice, "You're a terrible liar, Miya."

He’s probably trying to be intimidating or disapproving, but he’s off by about a mile. His voice is doing _something_ to Atsumu’s insides, and it’s definitely not what your friend’s voice is supposed to make you feel. Atsumu’s in deep. He’s in so, so deep he might as well be in the Mariana Trench.

Atsumu knows he’s tensing up so he deliberately breathes out slowly, evening out his posture. He looks Sakusa straight in the eye and says, “Are you sure I’m lying? My pants aren’t on fire.”

He manages to startle a laugh out of him, and man, Atsumu wishes Sakusa wasn’t wearing his surgical mask so he could see his smile and his dimple, but above the mask, his eyes are crinkling in mirth.

“Never change, Miya,” he says, shaking his head. Something akin to pride settles in Atsumu’s stomach and isn’t it pathetic to feel good about his crush laughing at him?

Atsumu watches Sakusa grab his bag, but he doesn’t move from his seat. Sakusa looks at him inquisitively. He opens his mouth and asks, “Aren’t you coming?”

Atsumu shakes his head. “I might need a moment. I’m still a little sore, so sitting down for a bit is helping with that. Go on without me.”

Sakusa doesn’t look like he’s buying that particular story, but he also doesn’t call Atsumu a liar again, so Atsumu’s counting that as a win. Sakusa shrugs and leaves.

He waits until Sakusa’s footsteps fade away, and when he’s finally sure he’s alone in the medbay, he traces his fingers over the bandages Sakusa left on him.

**Author's Note:**

> > CW: falling downstairs, mentions of blood and tending to wounds, mentions of slightly dysfunctional eating. 
> 
> Liar Liar Pants on Fire~
> 
> Hello! Feel free to interact w/ me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Feroxai_). My blog is equal parts FE3H (Sylvix), Haikyuu, MXTX and Aesthetic Memes. If you’re feeling generous, RT this fic’s post [here](https://twitter.com/Feroxai_/status/1338348586111668225).  
>   
> Massive thanks to my amazing betas, [Ginko](https://twitter.com/ginkobean)[ (Ao3) ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverwere) and [Evie](https://twitter.com/Yevievt)[ (Ao3) ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yevie/pseuds/Yevie). Ginkgo’s probably read this thing like, 5 times by now (ily). They both helped me hammer my Atsumu voice into something workable. This fic would not exist w/o them. Also thanks to Lumilotte, whose [ Vampire!Sakusa art ](https://twitter.com/lumilotte/status/1297955076984643584) spurred something in me and made me start writing this fic.  
>   
> I’m kinda new to writing comedy, so feel free to comment about which jokes worked for you and which fell a little flat :3c


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